Life Drawing Class

Life Drawing Class

We gather in the garden
At Guilhounet, friends, artists
Too long dispersed, happily met

Life drawing class
Focus this morning, the female form
Backdrop, nature, fig leaves
( But all will be revealed )
So, boards clipped, 2B, 4B pointed and poised
Hold at arm’s length, concentrate
Squint, see the shape, proportion
Find the line, deep breath
Right brain, engage, take the plunge
Bravely we strive, draw what we see
The long the lean the angular frame
Neck curved, fine, strong line
The arch of a clichéd swan
Hip bone sharp as an elbow
Matisse figures, economy of mark, scarcely there, suggestion
Filling the page
She is still, firm, spare
Four babies carried but no trace left
No softness no roundness no blur
All clarity of line

And afterwards
Reviewing gaily, pale rosé poured
Eight of us, so long past youth’s first flush
Women of a certain age
Few sharp angles remaining
The plump and the curved most surely embraced
Our own celebration, exhibition, display
Henry Moore, Rubens, in flesh and in blood
Proud to be round to be slack to have lived
Focus this morning, the female form

Life drawing class

August 29th 2009, Hounoux, for the class mates

This is the table

This is the table

This is the table, palest oak
Crafted and polished in fairest art
That Simon made
This is the child with the golden glow
Carefree and bright in the summer sun
Who sets the table of palest oak
That Simon made
These are the garlands of passion flower
The lavender sprigs in simple show
Arranged by the woman so gentle and kind
To help the girl with the golden glow
Who sets the table of palest oak
That Simon made
This is the supper, special fare
Cooked by the man for all to share
Who loves the woman so gentle and kind
Who helps the girl with the golden glow
Who sets the table of palest oak
That Simon made
And this is the chair where usually sits
The baby who’s sleeping, giving some peace
For all of us gathered here tonight
Three generations, some from afar
With friends beloved, here for a while
Who once had a boy, inquisitive child
Dexterous always, eager to learn
A craftsman now, who loves the wood
The palest oak, all polished and fair
Designed and created, shipped to the sun
A work full of love, where love will be shared
By all of us here, gathered tonight
To talk and to eat, in the evening light
All of us seated, each in our place
Family, friends, at the polished board
Crafted, created, in fairest art

28th August 2009 Hounoux, for Simon Morris

Tree Frog

Tree Frog

Up the window pane it creeps
Sticky suction, tacky toes
The bright green frog who’d rather be
Other side, outside, leaping free
And who will see and who will care
And who will hear the silent grief
The flapping wing of frantic bird
Or butterfly indoors
A thousand moments of despair
No solace found and pain concealed
Between the lines, the words not said
The love forbidden, held in hush
In one bar rest, in stoic silence, comma, stop
In colon, dot and dash
Before the window’s opened wide
Emotions’ sweet release
An elegy, a symphony
A captive soaring free

August 26th 2009, Hounoux

Home Leave

Home Leave

And so dear friend
Silent, lost, these mournful months
No word, save only one
Informing not yet dead
Just captive currently
Caught between hell and
Love’s fierce firestorm blast
Alone, signal perilously weak
No space, no time, no will to speak
Beyond my call and stretch of fingertips
In exile self-imposed

Yet here you stand before me, miracle
Warm in the flesh and real
Embrace and tears
Home leave from the front line
An afternoon out of time
Connecting
Latest bulletin, headlines, best forecast
Not good
Talk of torment and torture
The worst yet to come
But still, for a moment in sunshine
With sipping of tea, the touching of fingertips
Be glad and rejoice, be consoled
In spite of it all- delight of it all!
Our friendship, sweet friendship endures

August 23rd 2009 Hounoux for J, with love

Lucy's Bible

Lucy’s Bible

Carefully she writes her name
Here in the printed space
Copperplate, pen dipping in inkwell
Tongue held between her teeth
And the date, 1906
For this is her Bible, precious
Willed to her, Morebath Parish girl
Three centuries before, with conditions:
Seven psalms to be learned
And does she ever, Lucy, take those psalms to heart
And, forward a decade tumultuous,
Does she rehearse them, recite them
For comfort in her darkest hour
World at war, nadir
Lifting her soul to the lord
Praying for safe return
For a life and love together
For three lives yet to come
Children, now unto the fourth generation
When the child of another time
Bequeathed a fraction, sweet dividing
Of Lucy’s lovely self
Opens the Bible and, reading, dreams
A dream of other times
And faces gone
Of life and love together
And dear lives yet to come

23rd August Hounoux, for Frances, the Dusk Swimmer, who gave me just enough time

A Story of Love

A story of love

It’s hot on our hill
Hot and humid as hell
On our hill
Hounoux, mid August
So daily we dip
Hourly we slip, grateful
For cool, splash of the pool
Even at night no breath no respite
All of us here, Brits in the sun
Baked dry as the land, parched, listless and limp
But these two are coping, feeling it chill
Taking it easy, better by far
Than Texan inferno, desert and drought
Glad to be here, taking the air
Breathing the landscape, the culture of France
A meeting of peoples
Colliding of lives, different lives
Sharing, respectful, across the divide
Old world and new, political clash, discord
Heated contention, right wing and left
But listen and watch
Expression and tone
Poetry reading, laughter and tears
Shared history and fears
Emotional, generous, opening of hearts
Two families meeting
Sharing, respectful, across the divide
A moment in time
Hot on the hill
Hounoux, mid August
A story of love

August 19th 2009, for Chuck and Kathryn with love

Serendipity

Serendipity

On the edge of the forest
In grandmother's picture-book garden
Cottage only lacking a thatch
Wild ponies enhancing the scene
The much-planned, fretted over, arranged, re-arranged
Wedding is taking place
His family not fractured flown across the globe
Lending a certain Aussie grit and wit and realism
To the production
Hers reunited after break-up
Breakdown, heart-break of her younger years
Reprising their roles from impossibly
Sunny and glamorous, now-fading
Photos in granny's frame
And so, although the sun, presence politely requested
Remains a determined no-show
And own home-grown best-beloved flower girl
Fails to learn to walk
Still, breathe out, smile, be glad on this day
For Lucy's plans and dreams are coming true
Played out, made real, this August day
So many here who wish them well
Who laugh and cry and hope the gods
The odds, this time, are on their side
That the moment miraculous
Youthful, call it sweet serendipity
L A bar, two girls stepping out
Tired after flight, three brothers mainly here for the beer
Cheap that night, that place
The others not chosen, the crossing of paths
Surely it's fate, a portent, a sign
Read backwards the story is clear
Has a plot and a plan, it's light
Summer reading, a feel-good romance
So let us hope, fingers crossed, say a prayer
Wish them luck and god-speed
As pristine page bright-white is turned
And forward as one they step
Onward in faith, ready to tell
Their brave and future tale

17th August 2009, Brighton, for Lucy and Craig

Affliction Addiction

Affliction Addiction

Just see how her head is fast stuck in a book
The shame of my childhood, reproach in a look
She's dreaming, absented, not with us at all
Not minding, not heeding her duty's loud call
Scar where, whilst reading, I walked into post
Wraith in my own life, a phantom, a ghost
I've come and I've gone as the years have ensued
Now present, now absent, my own solitude
The problem's compounding, becoming far worse
My head full of reading and writing of verse
Missing my train as I grope for a rhyme
Attending to metre and rhythm not time
Next I'll start muttering aloud in the street
Alarming small children and dogs whom I meet
St Joan heard her voices, they say she was mad
The clamour I hear is becoming so bad
Insistent the notions, the phrases, the words
That flap in my head like a swooping of birds
Demanding attention no matter what hour
Fireworks exploding in meteor shower
Perhaps it's a syndrome, an illness, I'm sick
A poem is forming, must seize it, be quick
Tomorrow's resolve: I'll return to my life
Be mother, grandmother, befriender and wife
I'll give it all up before matters get worse
Right after I set down this very last verse.....

14th August 2009 Brighton

So Farewell Harry Patch

So farewell Harry Patch

Where have the flowers, the flowers all gone
They sing at his passing, the Tommy now home
Passchendaele hell scorched deep in his brain
A century on, the squalor, the pain
The pals dead like cattle
The rapid guns' rattle
The bugles yet calling from sadness of shires
The shrill wailing shells, the mourning of choirs
No pity no mercy no purpose no gain
The millions of young men all slaughtered in vain
The fields gone to poppies
The poppies to wreaths
November skies weeping
Eternal flame keeping
His message persistent
The pity the shame
When will they ever, no never will learn
The flowers to young girls to young men all gone
Gone to the graveyards, the fathers the sons
So sing his farewell, let his long nightmare cease
Just one in a million, last Tommy at peace

August 13th 2009 Flight from Toulouse to Gatwick

The King of the Castle

King of the Castle

Hush now a baby’s asleep in our house
He’s captured the castle, we’re all in his thrall
His the agenda from cock crow ‘til dusk
The hour of reveille entirely his call
He’s brought his best books with him, sure we’ll provide
A lap for a story a cuddle a song
And bright from their pages, from childhood’s long gone
Come leaping the moments, the memories so strong
Lions in meadows, tigers at tea
Elephant with baby who never said please
The house built by Jack, with maiden forlorn
Caterpillar hungry for cup cake and cheese
The giant myopic who needed some specs
Remarkable diet, amazing Fat Cat
Cabin boy Tom and Nogbad the Bad
Burglar called Bill who cried ‘I will have THAT!’
I sing of the frogs who leapt in the pool
And monkeys excitable jumping on beds
Miss Polly with dolly so very sick sick
And brown paper wrapping for mending Jack’s head
Of Baby Beluga, white whale on the go
Beloved at bedtime for lulling to sleep
But singing of Chaplin and moon shining bright
I think of my mother, connections run deep
She sang as a child in the Devonshire lanes
Then passed to my children, who loved it the best
And now once again it’s heard in our house
Where a baby is sleeping. I smile, we are blessed

12th August 2009, Hounoux

Nurofen Nightmare

Nurofen Nightmare

The headache comes slowly
Shuffling in socks
Tiptoeing in, finger on lips
Furtively glancing
Then silently settles, brooding
To wait
Wait. Ah! Now is the moment
Time to expand, stretch limbs
Try a tentative tap
Now another, let’s make it a riff
Drag out the snare drum, the cymbal, high hat
Tappety tap, Fred Astaire with the shoes
Soft shoe shuffle hop step, syncopate
Accentuate, hip hop, raga and rap
Now lifting the tempo, Count Basie in swing
Chorus of trumpets in unison swing
Joyfully tapping in puddles and storm
Swing round the lampposts
In happy refrain, laughing and singing
Happy again
The thunderclouds building
Horizon pitch dark
Bring on the big guns
The cannons, why not
The climax is coming, the pulsing, the pounding
Carmina burana insistent drum thrumming

All the percussion in unison clashing, cymbals together merciless crashing
Napoleon’s armies in overture battle
1812 slaughter with bugles and cannon
Crescendo cacophony, enough now, enough!
Call ceasefire, surrender, raise the white flag
I’m routed, exhausted, head in my hands
Defeated, a prisoner, lock me in chains
Switch off the lights and muffle the drums
Whisper it softly, tiptoe as you go
Let there be mercy
Petition for peace

August 10th 2009 Hounoux

When I was a giant

When I was a giant

Once the whole of your sweet self
Wet from the bath
Would fit in the dip in the bowl of my lap
For a making-it-better or
Comfort of dreams
An Eskimo/ butterfly kiss
Sung in a lullaby
Swung from the stars
When I was a giant and you just a child
I wrestled with dragons and
Mended it all, the teddy’s burst stuffing
The tangles in hair
The friends who were vicious, neglectful, called names
I watched the horizon for trouble to come
With plasters and ointment
With warm winter coats
With warnings and counsel
With day-glo reflectors, inflated armbands

But now we are older
And you are the one
The tigress protecting her beautiful young
Fighting such battles
Heart brave but life-scarred
I weep when I hear you
And rail against fate
Now that you’re out in the jungle alone
Weep by the phone in impotent rage
Donning my giant boots, super-power cape
Sheathing my sword and preparing to stride
Swift over mountains, the thousands of leagues
To rescue my loved ones with flashing of blade
To scoop you up gently
And bring you back home
Fairy tale ending, a port in a storm
Where people are waiting who love you the best
With plasters and ointment, unlimited love
A wandful of wishes
The comfort of dreams

7th August 2009 Hounoux

La Nuit Blanche

La Nuit Blanche

The night was white and sleepless
Dreamless, though the lion
And his pride roared, growled, grumbled
In the thick black sky
Somewhere by now over Europe
Say Southern Grecian isles
A plane was on its way
Winking blinking on its way
Steadfast, freighted with the ones loved
Joining the dots, making the links
And in a winter Sydney office one man
Prayed his child was sleeping, wife was coping
(Though he knew that god was gone)
While a thousand miles apart, rain of England, heat of France
Two grandmothers held their breath and waited
Waited, for the dawn and love to come

6th August 2009, Hounoux

Soul Food for Sale

Soul Food for Sale

In the midst of the market, the Monday mêlée
Fighting through throngs, all manner of tongues
Visiting English and German and Dutch
Merchants all clamouring, sample the wares
Sausages, cheeses, fruit from the farm
Bags full of lavender, rainbows of beads,
Fashion from India, cottons and silks
Spices exotic, strawberry plants
In the midst of the noise and the colour, the smells
August in Mirepoix
Kaleidoscope tumbling
Jostling and jumbling
Still
Shade under arches
Stones mellowed with years
Smooth polished for years
An ancient oasis
Of coolness and calm
Quiet, the poet is sitting and selling
Distilled on the pages, the beauty of verse

3rd August 2009, Hounoux

Chanson d' Hounoux

Chanson d’ Hounoux

Listen carefully and watch
The village signposts say
For we have a story of times now long gone
When grandmother’s grandmother was but a girl
She skips into school, first sign in our trail
Our tale of a school girl, in pinafore white
Who lines up each morning, now hushed and polite
For maîtresse is waiting and looking quite stern
Can you hear them all clatter and chatter to desks
The scratch of the slates where the lessons are learned
We’ll leave them to puzzle and struggle with verbs
With forming of tenses, with avoir /être
For out of the windows the sun’s in the sky
The men of the village are harvesting home
Cutting the wheat for the miller to grind
This once was his windmill his moulin
Next sign, only sign of the purpose
The life once here lived, sails long since dipped
The noise and the dust and the business all gone
And only a short step, from miller to bread
See here’s the boulangerie, baker at work
The clue’s on the window, the letters half- peeled
Just smell the baguettes, petits pains and the flutes
Ready for midi, St Martin’s bell chimes
Bell-ringer punctual to signal the time
( Chimes still resounding, mechanical now)
When labourers all, from the field and the forge-
Next to the schoolyard where horses are stamping
Horse-shoes long buried still lending a clue-
Village is heeding the call, not to prayer
But sacred observance, the midday repas
For this is the story of times now long gone
When those in the graveyard were noisy with life
Not silent, eternal, guarding the hill
Bequeathed to their children the tilling of fields
A story of people who love their terroir
Still making their mark in the rich soil of France

2nd August 2009, Hounoux, inspired by Jenny's ' Granny's Apples'

The South and the Summer, the Sun

The South and the Summer, the Sun

The land lies stunned sun-blasted
Pulsing far out hazy days lazy days
Shimmers and shifts mirage tricks
And bold as gold brazen brass
Essence of yellow, heads up
Look you in the eye, proud to be out
The psychedelic sunflowers stand
Serried ranks, ready to sing and to zing
The south and the summer, the sun

Hallucination drug-free trip
A walk at the end of the day
Clinging to shade to coolness of glade
Filling the senses and flexing the soul
The ochres, siennas, the Prussian, the rose
A palette a painting a poem
A snap for the album, mind’s eye
Make me bold give me voice, inspire
For I’m ready to sing and to zing
The south and the summer, the sun

2nd August 2009 Hounoux

Sleep Hibernate Shut Down

Sleep Hibernate Shut Down

Sleep hibernate shut down
The choice you offer nightly
And how would it be for me
If this once I just snapped tightly
Closed entrances, ears nose and eyes
Forgot the voices clamouring and ties
Opted for out of it, made like the bears
Curled up with the tortoise for sweet beddy-bies
Found a warm hidey-hole, far from the phone
The winking of messages, flash of the text
Cleared all the diaries, said some farewells
Blanked out the pages, the future, the next
Took a deep breath and slowed to a crawl
Hunched up, turned my back as winter snows fell
Slept through the freeze, economic and real
The nightly detailing of soldiers in hell
The famines, disasters, bad news by the hour
Dragging us under in rage and despair
The issues, Big Issues, for country and globe
Injustice, destruction, outrage and nightmare

It’s only a moment of choice on the screen
Sleep hibernate shut down, fingertip touch
Fantasy reveries, swiftly declined
How do I love thee, world, oh how much!
With all of the torments, the wicked, the sad
I’ll cling to the sunlight, the moonlight, the air
The loving, connecting, the struggle, delight
Ineffable beauty, the precious, the rare
It’s all of a piece, the rough with the smooth
The yin and the yang, the shadow the light
So all of my days, no brainer, of course
I’ll stick with the programme, til final goodnight

August 1st 2009 Hounoux